


The Highest of Commandments

by DoreyG



Series: Sacred and Wild [6]
Category: Frey & McGray Series - Oscar de Muriel
Genre: Desk Sex, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fisting, Hand Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 13:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16934211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: The weeks after Frey relented and allowed me into his bed again were, I am still astonished to admit, some of the best of my life.





	The Highest of Commandments

The weeks after Frey relented and allowed me into his bed again were, I am still astonished to admit, some of the best of my life.

It shouldn't have worked, a prissy Englishman and a depressed Scotsman are hardly the most natural of bedfellows even at the best of times, but it did. We found a certain joy together, one that I am still at a loss to explain. We were in each other's houses almost every night, trysting with undue enthusiasm. I learned the taste of his mouth, his throat, his cock. He memorised my groans, my growls, my absurd mutterings in the middle of the night and how to soothe them. We _drowned_ in each other.

And, in the midst of drowning, found new horizons.

"I'm not sure about this," Frey said, sounding remarkably composed for a man spread across my desk with his arse in the air. "I still can't help but worry..."

"That ye won't be able to take it?" I teased, already setting the pot of oil on the desk just to the side of his head. Where he could see it, and offer any _proper_ protests if he felt inclined to do so. "Because all I'm saying, Percy, is that is _not_ one of my concerns."

I saw him smile, out of the corner of my eye, and was surprised by the warmth it caused to spread through my chest. I'm still surprised, to be honest. Who would've thought that _Ian Frey_ , of all people, would be the one to crawl into my chest and set up residence there? I look at him, and my heart does it's very best to commit petty treason.

"- _Wasn't_ what I was talking about, Nine-Nails." It took me a long moment to realize that he was speaking again, so distracted was I by his smile. Weird, really. "I'm worried about somebody walking in on us. I doubt that the reaction to two police officers committing active sodomy on your desk will be at all _pleasant_."

"Active sodomy. As opposed to passive sodomy, eh?" I snorted, fondly. Leaned down to press a kiss against his cheek. "Don't _worry_ so much, Percy. Ye dinnae think I've taken precautions?"

"Uh," he said. And I remember feeling a touch smug, that for all he unwitted me I was just as able to distract him when I needed to. "You have?"

"I put a bag of newt livers on the stairs," I whispered in his ear, taking a certain pleasure in how he unconsciously arched his back towards me. "And one of the statues Katerina gave me under the doorknob. Somebody comes snooping we'll have advanced warning of them, _and_ 'll be able to get ourselves in a fit state before letting them through the door."

"Why, Nine-Nails," Frey practically purred, glancing over his shoulder with a heated look in his eyes. "That's almost an intelligent sounding plan. Are you feeling well?"

"Keep calling me stupid, dandy, and I _won't_ put my hand in yer arse," I said cheerfully, and pressed him back onto the desk with one hand between his shoulder blades.

I had been thinking of it since the first time we'd slept together, and six odd months of indecision on both our parts had turned that idle musing into a pressing desire. Frey submitted so prettily for me every single time we came together, I would've been a bloody fool if I hadn't wanted more.

I undid his trousers, him arching up helpfully against my chest to give me more room, and slid them quickly down his legs. He was wearing no underwear, a fact that sent a jolt of pure heat surging through me. 

Frey chuckled smugly beneath me, obviously feeling my fingers stutter with shock against his skin, and I had to hide a smile into his neck. One of of the most unexpected parts of our new arrangement had been discovering just how _flirty_ the man could get when he wasn't weighed down by a ton of neuroses. It was a pleasure I hadn't stopped indulging in yet. 

I slid the fabric of his trousers fully over his thighs, and down to the floor. He had actually thought to remove his shoes earlier, so they puddled on the ground without any resistance. He shifted a little, to step out of them and leave his bottom half bare, and I rewarded him with a kiss to the back of his neck. It was a pleasure when he shuddered and arched up into that too.

His cock was already half hard between his thighs, but I decided that we might as well seek for perfection there too. I spat in my hand, and wrapped it around the length of him casually. Frey gave a muffled groan beneath me, and I took that for the encouragement that it was. Traced my fingers teasingly across his head, down over the steadily more pronounced vein and right until I met the thickness of the base. It took only three strokes before he was fully hard and obviously trying not to shudder apart beneath me.

I appreciated him for a moment, so pretty and flushed, and then reluctantly removed my good hand from his cock. Shifted a little, and then reached my four-fingered hand towards the pot of oil.

I, _we_ as I had talked the matter over with Frey one night when we were lying sated in his bed, had decided on using the hand with only four fingers first. We knew that he could take all of that, after all, so it seemed a sensible way to work ourselves up. I still made sure to coat my first finger thoroughly, before I moved it between his legs.

As ever, he barely seemed to notice the penetration on just one. He let out a shaky breath, yes, but that probably owed more to the release of his cock or me pressing up against his back like a dog in heat. I still took my time. I wanted this to go well, after all, and with such a willing partner it wasn't exactly a hardship to linger. I rotated my finger within him slowly, getting him slick. I learned him all over again, careful in my ministrations until he was rocking back against me impatiently.

The thing is, Frey begs _really_ prettily. And not just with his mouth, either. He's possibly at his prettiest when he's submitting to me as loudly as he can, yes, but I also like his subtler signs. The needy rocking of his hips, the narrowing of his eyes, the way his nails dig into his palms when he's trying to hold himself back.

I gave into him. What else was I supposed to do, ignore such prettiness? I inserted my second finger just as slowly, pushed into him as my cock throbbed between my legs.

We both like two fingers better. Me because it gives me more to do, Frey because he loves being as full as possible. I pushed my fingers deeper into him, starting to open him up properly. Frey welcomed me in eagerly, moaned as loudly as he could and arched his back so wantonly that it was all I could do to remember my plan and not take him then and there.

I bit the inside of my cheek, thought firmly of Campbell and his blubber until I'd calmed down enough not to embarrass myself. I set up a steady thrusting rhythm once I was composed enough not to explode, driving him harder and harder against the desk until he had to brace himself on his elbows or risk headbutting the wood. He seemed to like that even more, so I didn't feel too guilty. His muscles eased even further around me, and his thighs started to shake.

I couldn't resist. I withdrew almost entirely, teasing him, and then thrust my fingers fully back in so that they rubbed over his prostrate. He jerked, helplessly, and cried out. His hips gave an abortive thrust forward and left a smear of precome on my desk. And I can tell you now, it was a _pity_ to wipe that off later.

I used the distraction, and what a sweet distraction it was, to add a third finger. It went in a little more difficulty this time, actually seemed to stretch him. I was well aware that Frey wouldn't mind too much, he seems to regard the stretching process as one of his favourite things in the world, but I still went carefully. I didn't move for a long few moments after I'd slipped the third finger in, allowing him to get comfortable.

Frey, of course, seemed to regard being comfortable as he did all good things: with open scorn. It wasn't long before he was shoving his hips back against me again, moaning pointedly all the while.

I took mercy. I'm not made of _stone_ , after all, and the urge to spread him out further underneath me was one that even a gargoyle would've had trouble resisting. I moved all three of my fingers within him, scissoring carefully until he was practically limp with pleasure beneath me. It was a sweet sight, my very own masterpiece laid out for me to appreciate at leisure.

I brushed up against his prostate once more, and was pleased to get an actual yelp from him. I did it again, more firmly,and watched with delight as he sobbed and dug his nails hard into the wooden top of my desk. I have to say, nothing has ever submitted to me as prettily as Frey.

I could've happily remained like that, feeling him come apart slowly on my fingers for the rest of our lives, but that wasn't our agreement. I slipped my thumb into him slowly, taking it even more carefully than before. The clench of his muscles around me was obscene, almost painful in a way that made me wonder what it must've been like for him.

I would've drawn back, tempered my lust in favour of his comfort, in a moment if he'd shown any sign of discomfort. But he didn't. If anything, he did the exact opposite. His muscles clenched hard around me for a moment more, and then his body went entirely boneless as his cock went rock hard between his legs. His fingers dug into the desk hard enough that it was a miracle he didn't get splinters, his legs spread as wide as they could and the noises he made... He opened his mouth, and a symphony of moans and whines and _whimpers_ spilled out. All for me, all because I'd decided to stick my hand in his arse.

I was entranced by him, no lesser word for it. Something tight in my chest that'd been there for years loosened at the sight, and left only warmth in its wake. I looked at him, and I finally understood why people had invented sonnets in the first place.

It didn't take long before he was shoving back at me again, needy in his lust. It should've been at least a little annoying, but in that moment I was helpless to withhold anything from him. I could only press him back against the desk, and move. I started off slowly, carefully as I could. I pressed my fingers together, making my hand as small as I could within him, and set up a steady thrusting motion.

Frey liked that well enough, he arched his back again and gave a pleased murmur, but he never has been one to accept _enough_. It wasn't long before he was rolling back against my thrusts, and then making soft encouraging noises, and then glancing back over his shoulder with a faintly scornful wrinkle of his nose.

If he was going to be like that, I decided in that moment, then I was going to give him exactly what he asked for. I sped up my thrusts, leaving most of my gentleness by the side. My hand penetrated even deeper into his body, halfway in by that point. I felt his muscles bump up against the midpoint, the ridge of bone that I'd never even thought to have inside another person's body, and was surprised by how intense the surge of lust was.

The noises he made at that were impressive, even louder than before. The shudder of his body underneath me, _around_ me, was absurdly erotic. I couldn't help but smile at the back of his head, and feel a deep fondness welling up within me. I couldn't help but look lower, and watch the sight of us joined together so deeply with a feeling far sharper.

Frey noticed my perusal, and drew in a deep breath. He stilled for a moment, so absolutely that it _must_ have cost him, and drew in a deep breath. In the next moment he thrust back so hard against my hand that I was almost knocked away from the desk.

I was barely able to hold him, he bucked so hard, but I found myself enjoying the challenge. He felt like wildfire underneath me, and I would've been a fool if I hadn't loved every single bit of it. I loved the long stretch of his back, the helpless panting of his breath, the connection between him and me. I wanted _him_ in a way that I'd never thought it was possible to want another human being. And I wanted more than his physical traits, too. I wanted the feeling he caused to blossom in my chest, the way he sniffed just before he started teasing me, the sweetness of his smile when he forgot to guard himself quite so closely. I wanted... Him. All and everything I wanted was him.

And in that moment, that glorious moment as I slipped my hand even deeper into his body until it slid three quarters in with a noise that made him arch his back and _wail_ , I had him. I was happy, actually _happy_ for the first time in years.

He didn't last long after that, my Frey. He arched back until he was practically bent in a bow over the table, and let out a low sob. I tried to move my hand even further within him, an abortive movement that caused his muscles to clench painfully around me, and that was enough. His nails dug in, his mouth shaped around my name and he came all over my desk with a rather charming level of enthusiasm.

I allowed him to linger there for a long few moments, panting and weak, and bit back the surge of my own lust at the sight of him. The sound my hand made when I eased it out of him was obscene, a damp noise that made us both shudder at the implication of it.

I'm sure that I didn't make a noise, I'm generally _very_ good at holding myself back, but he seemed to notice me anyway. A moment, and then he lifted his head slowly and turned around to brace himself on the desk.

He looked absolutely ridiculous. His face was flushed bright red and there was a suspicious dampness lingering in his eyes. His cravat was still neatly tied, and his shirt was only slightly wrinkled where it'd rode up against the desk. His bottom half was entirely bare, his cock softening between his legs and only a little come still dribbling down his thighs. He looked absolutely ridiculous, and I didn't _care_ because he also looked like one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. There was a sparkle in his eyes, an inviting look as he licked his lips and glanced deliberately down between my legs.

Again, I was powerless to resist him. I didn't _want_ to resist him, and that was the terrifying thing. I fumbled for the fastenings on my trousers, and gasped with joy when the heated skin of my cock hit the air. I was as hard as rock already, most of the way there just at the sight of him. He licked his lips again, and I was honestly surprised that the rest of me didn't just turn into stone.

There was no time for finesse, no need for a show. I simply wrapped my good hand around my cock, and started to move it as fast as I could. I rubbed a thumb over my head, moved my entire fist down my length and almost punched myself in the balls with the force of my grip. By the second stroke I was gasping, curling into myself with the pleasure. By the third stroke I felt about ready to explode, to boil out of my skin and accept a life well lived. By the fourth stroke-

Well, that was when Frey reached up to press his mouth against my neck.

My knees buckled as I came, but luckily he was there to catch me and keep me from sinking all the way to the floor. The world whited out for a while, a surge of pleasure and heat and pure affection, and the only thing I was aware of was the firmness of Frey's fingers digging into my upper arms and the fact that I was painting his formerly pristine shirt with come.

We stared at each other for a long moment in the aftermath, panting. After a while I arched my eyebrow, and Frey gave a small smile and moved to wrap his arms around my neck. We rocked together, forehead to forehead, and breathed each other's air like we could think of nothing better to do.

"You certainly know how to convince a man," he said eventually, and his voice would've almost been a purr if it hadn't come out of his mouth quite so tenderly.

"Look who's talking," I said, unsurprised to find my voice still absolutely ragged, and leaned in to kiss him just as he started to laugh.


End file.
